


lies told and promises kept

by storiesmadeofstars



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, One Shot, Sad Ending, assume both Cassian and Leia are in their 20s, reduced age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesmadeofstars/pseuds/storiesmadeofstars
Summary: The weight of the Rebellion weighs heavily on both a spy and a princess. Their crossing paths will forever change their lives.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Leia Organa
Kudos: 4





	lies told and promises kept

When Leia first arrives on Dantooine, it’s the greenery that takes her breath away. She’s spent a year on Coruscant, training as a junior senator. It was a year full of paperwork and pollution, countless long meetings held in rooms that used holovids to decorate otherwise barren walls. It was a year spent to serve the Rebellion, even if it was a year spent breaking bread with some of the highest ranking Imperials.

And now? Now she stands under vast ancient trees and breathes in fresh air, air that tastes like freedom and feels like hope. There are no skyscrapers on Dantooine. No corporations. No Imperials. Above her stretches a blue horizon, blotted out only by the leaves on the top of the highest trees. No hoverspeeders. No drones, forever watching, forever reporting back to their Imperial masters. No dangers at all.

She’s not supposed to be here. SHes certainly not supposed to be impersonating someone else.

“Captain Andor?” Rodma clears her throat. The man looks up. Leia instantly looks anywhere else: her boots, the floor, the space directly beyond his left ear. “This is a new recruit. She has all the correct paperwork.”

“Does she,” he murmurs and it’s neither a question or an agreement.

“I’m skilled at codebreaking,” Leia butts in.

“As am I,” Captain Andor replies. Of course. He’s the one who taught her in the first place. They’d spent multiple lessons working together on various files, before she’d been told her place was not to fight, but to serve through governmental means. “What other skills do you have, Cadet Acadi?”

A thousand useless ones. Embroidery. Knowledge of twenty different planets’ formal waltzes. How to draft legal documents both Imperial and Republic in nature. How many votes are needed for quorum on each of the core worlds. Leia has learned everything asked of her as princess and as junior senator, and yet, none of them seem remotely helpful to the Rebellion. “I can…” she pauses. “I can pilot any ship. Show me the cockpit and I’ll have it mastered in a second.” The arrogance feels strange, and yet, familiar, as if someone she’d once known had said it a thousand times.

Cassian shakes his head, but so softly that one might miss the gesture.

He knows she’s lying.

But he knows her need to help the Rebellion is real.

So, his shake turns into a nod, just once, but allowing her to stay. “We’ve got some X-Wings in need of new engines. I’ll put you with our R4 unit in charge of repairs.”

Leia had never so much as seen an engine, let alone repaired it. But still, she smiles, so glad to be here, and be of help. And to be honest, she’s quite sure that learning to fix ships might be easier than learning to fly them. “Thank you.”

The corners of Cassian’s eyes crinkle in a small gesture of happiness, and Leia feels as if she’s floating on air. She’s done it. She’s become a rebel, a real one, not someone stuck in endless meetings with terrible men, stuck doing nothing but paperwork for the sham of a government that remains. She’s here, on Dantooine, and she’s ready to change the galaxy.

As soon as she learns how to fix an engine, that is. Or even where an engine might be, on a ship. Or even, perhaps, what a hydrospanner is.

* * *

It turns out that mechanical work is hard, and messy, and full of brush burns, scrapes, and bruises. The area under her fingernails seems to be permanently stained black, and her long hair has remained twisted up in a simple braided bun for two days. But Leia is _happy._ When she collapses into her cot each night, it’s to a well-rested slumber, devoid of any bad dreams. While she works, it’s with a newfound passion and dedication unlike that she’d had for her dance classes. And when she takes a break, it’s to spend that time with Cassian Andor, who often, around the time they break for lunch, appears to ask her if she’d like to go for a walk.

But it turns out too, that Dantooine is beautiful, with trees at least a century old, and dura birds with plumage like starfire. The land around the base is serene, so far removed from Coruscant Leia can nearly believe that polluted planet was only a nightmare of hers.

Leia can nearly believe many things, but what she barely can believe is that Cassian Andor is here, walking next to her, as if no time has passed, no secrets have been made or kept or broken, no battle have been fought.

While they walk, they talk of simpler things. Pleasant memories of their family, both of them careful to never name names or planets. Favorite moments of the morning before them or anticipated ones for the evening. Discussions of what the cafeteria might serve. It reminds Leia a great deal of how they’d talked between code-breaking work, only this time, the code that stretches between them is made from her lie.

But it’s a lie Cassian knows how to break, and somehow, doesn’t. He lets the untruth hang between them, a weight like a stormcloud, that simply shadows them both.

They had moments like this on Alderaan, small hints of something greater, the opening bars of songs never allowed to play. It was why, in part, she’d come here. To see if that small fluttering flame might grow into something bright enough to burn.

On the third day, their fingers brush as they walk, his callused, tired hands against hers, soft, though now stained with oil and engine grease. Leia holds her breath, looking up at the quilted sky above, a pattern of leaves and bright sunlight peeking through. Dantooine, she realizes, is beautiful. Far more beautiful than she’d expected it to be.

On the fifth, their fingers make contact once more and this time, Cassian’s hand gently takes hold of hers. He looks down at her, with gentle hesitation and shyness. Leia squeezes his hand as a silent answer. As new as this is, it feels as if their hands were made to fit together, as if this moment had existed a thousand times before.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For being here.” The corners of his eyes crinkle again, even if he doesn’t smile. Leia doesn’t care. It feels like a sweet prize all the same. “Though I’m sure there will be hell to pay.”

“Some day,” Leia responds with a shrug. “Not now, though. Not while we’re here.”

Not while she repaired ships and he read reports and they pretended that the ever-growing war would never reach them. Not while their days, though long, still held joy and their nights still held a sweet soft peace that let them both rest easy, for the few hours of sleep their schedule allowed. Not while the lie she’d told that first day grew into a life she wished she could live forever.

There is plenty to learn here, for the good of the Rebellion, and not the least of which is how to live a lie.

Sometimes, Leia, covered in mechanical stains, fingers clenching tools she doesn’t even know the names of, will turn, and see Cassian looking up at her, and for a moment, he will smile. A real smile. A true smile.

And in those moments, Leia wonders if there’s a way they could stay on Dantooine forever, if one day, her hands could learn to build a home the way they’ve learned to wield a hydrospanner.

“Do you ever think of the future?’” she asks, her head pillowed on his shoulder, as they look up at the dappled sunlight streaming through Dantoonie’s trees. They’d taken a longer lunch break than usual, because there’s talk of a visit from Bail Organa himself, a topic which concerns them both greatly, in many different ways.

“No,” he replies, quickly. Too quickly to hide the lie, so he adds, “no more than I need to. I think of the future of the Rebellion, and the success we work for.”

“Oh.” Leia reaches for his hand. “Nor do I.”

He wraps his fingers around hers, keeping her close, though the light in his eyes fades a bit, like clouds over a sun.

He knows she’s lying.

But he knows his love for her is real.

* * *

The weeks pass. Leia’s father does visit, and though stern words are exchanged, Leia has his blessing, at least for a few more weeks. Until the next Senate vote. Until her time on this forgotten, bustling, planet is over.

She wonders if anyone will be able to tell where she’s been, if she’ll be able to get the stains out from under her nails, and the calluses from her palms. Part of her hopes not. She wants some proof, however small, that this small slice of her life had been real.

She wants to know that this small fragile love she’s found here on Dantooine isn’t just a lie.

Cassian promises it’s not, though his smile is gone when he says the words. And Leia reacts, just as surely as if he’d said everything he was hiding from her. “I’m sorry for asking,” she whispers. “I should have…”

“What, Leia?” he asks, using her name here, and only here, deep in the forest, with only the trees and daru birds to hear.

“I should have never come here,” she whispers. “I should have stayed on Coruscant.”

He shakes his head. “No. That’s not true. You being here…” he pauses, holding back many things, and yet, finally deciding it is worth the risk to speak of one of them. “It has helped me find meaning in life again.”

“And helped the Rebellion?” she asks, kissing his cheek. Her tone is lighter now, as they both spin away, as skilled with words as dancers are with rhythms, from the deeper conversation of only moments before.

“Of course,” he replies.

“Then I shall return to the Senate,” she says. “At least I know I’m a much better shot now.”

“Though you are a terrible pilot,” he replies, referencing her one failed attempt to steer a ship in need of redocking.

“I thought it would be easier!” Leia retorts, blush high on her cheeks. “As easy as.. As shooting wamp rats.”

Cassian lifts an eyebrow. “You’ve been around us commoners too long, your majesty, if you’re using expressions like that.”

“I… it just sprang into my head. That’s all.”

“And what will you say?” Cassian asks, teasing ever-so-gently, as he brushes a lock of hair from her eyes. “If some young, successful, wealthy senator asks for your hand in marriage?”

“I’ll tell him,” Leia rolls on to her side, so she can better see Cassian, memorizing him like this; a smile playing on his lips, the dark circles under his eyes nearly gone. “I’ll tell him I only like nice men.”

Cassian just shakes his head. “And I’m nice?”

“Very,” she insists.

“If you say so, your highness.”

“Noo…” Leia playfully swats his shoulder. “You say it. Say you’re nice. You need to believe in yourself more, Cassian Andor. See yourself the way I do.”

He gives her a long calculating look, before he finally says it. “I suppose I am nice. And,” he pauses again, to pass her a small metallic bracelet, silver in color, though not of any precious medal made. He’s electroplated it, though, given it the false sheen to match her own Chalcedony Waves. “I am nicer for the knowing of you.”

Leia marvels softly at the gift, before slipping it onto her fragile wrist. Jewelry suits her, he thinks, but so does the work apron she’s still wearing, complete with a tool belt. She thanks him, just as softly, stunned into silence.

“It’s a little trinket,” Cassian promises her, though she can tell that’s a lie. “I just… I didn’t want you to forget…” he cuts himself off. “Your time here, on Dantooine.”

“I could never forget this place,” she replies, trying hard to master her feelings. “But tell me, now, what business did you have with my father? You’re not going away on another mission, are you?”

“No,” he says, but it’s too quick, too sure, to be the truth. “I will remain here, on Dantooine, for a long time. There is plenty to do here.”

She knows he’s lying.

But she knows her love for him is real.

* * *

Cassian was lying, of course, and hated every moment of it. He never lied to her about the things that truly mattered; his love for her, his belief in the Rebellion. But in those smaller things, in what he was doing on Dantooine, and where he would go on his next mission, he lied.

He lied that the bracelet meant nothing, when his own mother had worn one to match, as a gift from his father, long before the two ever settled down with their family. Which, that thought too, leads to another lie, the one he told himself during those bright weeks on Dantooine, where he’d daydreamed of a thing that could never be, a family, a home, a place to return to that wasn’t just a base. Leia. He’d dreamed of Leia and a future they could never have, and that had been the best and the most terrible lie he’d ever told himself.

There could be no future for the two of them. He’d known that on Alderaan, he’d known that on Coruscant, though then, Leia hadn’t known him, and he knew it on Dantooine.

And perhaps, he thinks, while the rain falls on Eadu, he lied when he said he was a nice man.

Now, though, they’re on Yavin IV, and the war is close, so close. Time has nearly run out, not for the Rebellion, but for him. His missions had always been urgent, but this one… unsanctioned, unplanned for… this one is beyond any sort of mortal urgency, moving into something he can barely name.

Something that feels like hope and like despair, an eclipse of all other rational emotions.

But he’s here, on Yavin IV, and he’d so hoped to see her, if only for a moment. Bail had been here, Cassian knew. But Leia… where was she?

“She’s not here?” he asks, searching past Rodma for some small glimpse of a whirlwind-in-human form.

Rodma shakes her head. “No. She’s aboard the Tantive, lightyears away.”

Of course. When time was at its most scarce, their distance was the greatest. He can’t waste time remembering a better time, when her room was down the hall and his gait matched hers so perfectly as they walked under ancient trees. He can’t think of anything but the mission.

Not now.

Perhaps not ever again.

But still, there is one small part of him, one small personal, selfish hope, that burns. Quickly, with borrowed datapad and stolen time, he leaves her a note. It flies away, traveling through the ether, to her Artoo. It’s desperate and foolish, a lie told for no reason other than to give him his own hope, something smaller than that he fights for, something so small and so fragile it seems like a single word spoken out loud could break it.

Strange that love could feel so fragile, when Leia is so strong. He loves that about her. Her strength, her passion, even her ability to lie, if it was for the greater good. Cassian hopes she will never forget those things, no matter what clouds await her path, no matter what will happen after this mission. After he is gone, and he can no longer protect her from the shadows, as he has for so long.

As he had from the moment her ship had taken off from Coruscant to the moment it had landed there on their old Rebel base. As it had from the moment he'd seen her smile and heard her argue with their teacher over some pedantic matter, back on Alderaan. It's why he sent the message he did, why he wants her to believe just one more lie from him. He wants her to have hope, at least for a little while, hope enough to keep fighting for all that matters in the galaxy. 

_Meet me on Dantooine. I will be there, waiting for you._

He knows he’s lying.

But he knows his love for her is real.

* * *

“I grow tired of asking this, so it will be the last time.”

Tarkin’s words cut through her, though she does her best to show no fear. Her head aches, nearly as much as her heart does. Leia wants to be strong, knows she must be, even as Tarkin pushes forward, forcing her to stumble backward, placing her in direct contact with Darth Vader. A wave of rage and pain and anguish washes over Leia, as sudden as a breath. If she'd thought she hated Vader before, Leia finds now that was only the begining of the disgust she could feel for the hollow shell of a man.

Tarkin asks her, in a voice like broken crystals, “Where is the Rebel base?”

Scarif is gone.

Cassian is gone.

Even if he’s not, even if his message was true, though she doubts it is, then he will be, soon. Because she cannot protect her love over her planet, cannot choose one life over many. Soon, that one place that held all the memories they shared would be gone too.

“Dantooine,” she whispers.

Of course, there’s nothing on Dantooine, or at least, nothing like what Vader and his foul henchmen search for. All that remains there is her old hopes, a thousand daydreams broken into pieces, scattered across the forest floor. All that remains is a piece of her heart she’ll never recover and a part of her past she must lock away. She must be strong, as strong as she'd been the first time she'd tugged an engine back into alignment, and she must be smart, clever enough to turn the hydrospanner just enough to turn a gear that makes the rest of a massive ship turn in place. She must be all of those things, and harder yet, she must still have hope for the future, no matter how bleak this moment seems. It's what Cassian would ask of her, she knows, if he was here. It's what she will always have, for his sake.

But of all the things Leia has learned for the sake of the Rebellion, the most useful has proven to be the ability to freeze her heart to ice. Her voice is calm, or at least, as calm as it needs to be.

She knows she’s lying.

She knows she still loves him.

And she knows that she’ll never again have a chance to tell him that. She looks away, not out of fear, not even out of hatred for Vader, though she feels that deep in her bones. She looks away, because in that moment, the memory of the sunlight glittering through the trees, the memory of Cassian’s smile, the memory of his hand in hers, all of those fade, as swiftly as if it had been the Death Star’s own blast.

Her love, her hope, the memory of the man who had changed her life forever… all of those things belonged there, in those ancient forests, on that half-forgotten planet. Now, to fill the silence, to convince the evil men standing around her, Leia speaks once more. “they’re on Dantooine.”

And in some ways, it’s not a lie at all.


End file.
